Deep
by Marauder and The Q
Summary: Sandy buried her face in Soda's chest and smiled, not entirely sure what to make of Soda or what he had said. Whatever he was, though, he was hers, and that was all that mattered at the moment. They'd figure out 'forever' if it came.


Disclaimer: Much praise (and money) goes to S.E. Hinton for writing a wonderful book with characters memorable enough to warrant fanfic. I own and am profiting from nothing.

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The day was hot and business was slow, but Sandy didn't mind. She was enjoying the lazy day it afforded her to hang around Soda and Steve, who was bored out of his mind with no cars to work on and, for once, no girls to ogle. Soda, ever the showman, had found a way to occupy the time.

Sandy sighed, a warm smile on her face. "Look at that ... Isn't he something, Steve?"

Steve looked up from the small block of wood he was carving, his expression questioning. "Why you askin' me?"

Sandy spared him a glance. "I don't know. I'm just..."

"Smitten," Steve supplied, returning his attention to the wood.

She smoothed her skirt as she sat down beside him on the back bumper of a black car. She didn't recognize the model. No matter how many times Soda explained the different cars to her, she never could keep them in her head for very long. She supposed that was because she was paying more attention to him in general than to his voice. She loved to watch him as he spoke -- his lively eyes; the way his hands soared and swooped all over, both emphasizing and distracting from his point; the way his lips curved up into a grin, or curled as he pouted and joked.

"I guess so, if that's what you'd call it."

"You're falling all over yourself for him, Sandy," Steve said bemusedly.

"There something wrong with that?" Sandy raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

"Nope. He's a good guy. He'll be good to you and you'll be good together. All good. I just think you could stand to have a little self-control and stop drooling whenever you see him get excited." Steve gestured to Soda, who was in the middle of telling a long-winded and greatly exaggerated story to a rough-skinned customer and his ten-year-old son, complete with over-the-top hand gestures. He was excited, alright, and so was his audience.

"I don't fall all over myself," Sandy argued, blushing. "You're thinking of those girls who hang around here all hours of the day. And I certainly don't drool. Girls don't _drool_. Only boys drool. And dogs."

"Same thing."

Sandy laughed; the sound was bubbly and light. "Thanks."

"For what?"

"For a lot of things, especially introducing me to Soda."

Steve shrugged.

Sandy bit her lip, tilting her head to the side and viewing Steve through half-lidded eyes, as if deep in thought. "You think he might marry me one day?"

Steve's knife slipped and nicked his thumb. After a few moments, small beads of blood began to seep through the cut. "Ain't it kind of soon?" he asked as he looked around for a clean rag; no such luck.

"I don't mean now, Steve." Sandy reached into her purse and pulled out a tissue, which she gingerly wrapped around Steve's thumb. "Some day is a long ways off. I'm only sixteen. He's only sixteen. I just ... I want to know if you think some day is possible, even, after we've had a chance to really live."

Steve pulled his hand away to examine it. "Why do you care what I think about it?"

"You're his best friend, and you're my friend. Ten years is a long time to be neighbors, Steve."

"This is something you should be talkin' to him about," Steve said firmly, standing, "not me."

Sandy sighed. She recognized that this conversation would go nowhere, but she at least didn't want to leave it open-ended. With a half-hearted glance at Soda, she admitted, "Sometimes, I think he's too much for me -- too good, too wild, too everything -- and I wonder what tomorrow will be like. And I wonder if tomorrow would be different if it was any more permanent. Doesn't get more permanent than marriage, does it?"

"Marriage wasn't too permanent for my folks," Steve muttered, but Sandy didn't notice, too lost in her train of thought.

Sandy opened her mouth to continue, but, at that moment, Soda loped over and kissed her cheek.

"Enjoyin' the show?"

She chuckled and wrapped her arms around him. "I love watching you talk. Of course."

"What'd they want, anyway?" Steve broke in.

"Directions."

"Then how'd the floor show come about?"

"No cars today. Damn slow. Hot as hell. Can't a guy have a little fun?" Soda winked.

Sandy pulled away from Soda, her arms still around his waist, and looked at Steve. They made eye contact.

"Moments like this, right?" Soda asked abruptly.

"Huh?" Sandy set her gaze on his face.

"I said it's moments like this that you remember. You want to hold onto 'em tight 'cause they don't feel permanent enough."

Something in Sandy's mind clicked into place.

Steve raised an eyebrow in her direction, but spoke to Soda. "Where'd that come from, man?"

Soda shrugged. "I've been thinkin' about things lately." He smiled down at Sandy with an expression that she couldn't place. His grip around her tightened.

"I think I hear a car," Steve said slowly, backing out of the garage. "Can't keep the customers waiting."

"No," Sandy said quietly. "You can't. Better go tend to 'em."

With one last glance over his shoulder at Sandy, Steve stepped out of sight.

"Just you and me now, huh?" Soda's eyes seemed to shine mischievously. "Too bad we don't got forever 'til someone comes back."

"Forever?"

"Yeah, forever. Sounds nice, don't it? Got a ring to it."

Sandy buried her face in Soda's chest and smiled, not entirely sure what to make of Soda or what he had said. Whatever he was, though, he was hers, and that was all that mattered at the moment. They'd figure out 'forever' if it came.


End file.
